


Breathe

by retirw (orphan_account)



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Depression, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:47:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25121125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/retirw
Summary: “The highest form of knowledge is empathy.”
Relationships: Stinky Peterson/Sid
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> A story I wrote in late 2016. TW for self-harm, mental illness, and a suicide attempt. 
> 
> This probably cringy in hindsight, and I apologize.

Sid couldn’t sleep at all that night. 

He wished he could. Honestly. With every toss and turn, he could feel the voices growing louder in his head. A symphonic cacophony of despondent jabs and painful memories that not even his favorite vices could heal. No matter how much weed he smoked or booze he drank, he couldn’t mute the hatred and despair that drowned his mind. 

“Screw this,” he muttered, tearing the thin blanket off his form before turning on his light and heading into the bathroom. He looked into the mirror and couldn’t help but feel contempt for the greasy teenager staring back at him. His eyes were stained with grey bags, behemothic rings that could’ve easily be discerned by the faraway eye. A few zits dotted across his face, but he didn’t pay too much attention to them. Only when they were appearing in sudden numbers did he begin to panic. 

He continued to glare at the visage before shutting off the light and returning to his room. After a few moments of quiet thought, he began to change and headed outside. He was used to sneaking out at night so evading the walls of parental confinement wasn’t much of an issue.

It was the thought of what he was going to do next that still bothered him. 

The thought had first made its way into his head two weeks ago, when the pain was becoming too unbearable to carry. The meds his nurse practitioner prescribed him provided no relief and he was having trouble finding a new therapist. Living the rest of his existence like this was implausible. He was willing to do anything find some form of relief. 

Then the thought ringed through his head like an angelic horn. Naturally, he was apprehensive at first; what would the other side be like? If there even was one. He wasn’t one to really dwell on existentialist issues unless they directly pertained to him. Unless, of course, he was hanging out with Harold and Stinky. 

Eventually the pain outweighed any anxiety provoking thought his mind could’ve conceived. He wanted—no, he needed a way out and fast. 

He had donated some of his lesser possessions to charities and thrift stores. The rest went to his friends. His signature Herb Iron? It went to Stinky. His Xbox went to Harold. And his signature beetle boots? They went to Arnold. He hadn’t worn them since he was a boy, but he knew Arnold would take good care of them. 

Speaking of Arnold, he did approach Sid once concerning his change in character. The blonde did the best he could to help but even he realized that Sid’s condition was too arcane for even him to decipher. 

Hillwood was murmuring with life, fragments of a vibrant day dissipating with every passing moment. The sounds that reverberated in his mind were muffled by the monsters in his mind, their sneering and cackling muting his thoughts as he walked down the dingy street that led to the city harbor. 

His eyes were fixated on the water that stood before him, his tired reflection staring back at him before he slowly pulled out his phone to send a tweet. 

“its been a fun ride while it lasted. See u guys on the other side.” 

He then pulled off his jacket and snuffed the cigarette he had been smoking with his boot. A ragged breath escaped him before he removed his cap and boots, inhaling deeply before as he glared at the water. 

Not a breath seeped through his form as he walked toward the water.

\-----

Stinky didn’t consider the brightest bulb out there, but he reckoned something was up when Sid gave him his signature Herb Iron earlier that week. He had that thing since he was fourteen, why would he get rid of it now? The thought haunted his mind for the next couple of days – especially when Arnold was discussing it the other day during lunch. He hid his thoughts while Harold laughed and dismissed Sid’s downward spiral as something he would eventually “get over.” Stinky was hesitant to agree with him but he didn’t dare express his ideas vocally. He was worried about what the other guys would’ve thought. He was in Harold’s gang for a reason – they were the school rascals who smoked behind the school building and crashed house parties with their rambunctious behavior. But Sid was his friend, one of his best since childhood, they went through all sorts of hijinks and adventures together – he couldn’t just walk away from his bro during his time, could he? 

He was on his way home from detention when he thought he caught glimpse of Sid’s form. He blinked before taking a step closer to the harbor. He often took this way to get home – it allowed for a quick and leisurely stroll. Plus, he enjoyed the scent of the bay during the night hours. There was just something alluring about it. 

He took another step closer, eyes growing wide as he recognized the teen that was about to walk off the dock. “Sid?” Stinky called out, emerging from the shadows as he saw his friend walk off the pier. “Sid!” His voice rippled through the air as he sprinted towards the dock’s edge, taking note of the clothing that laid silently on the wood before he peeked at the murky water below. He only glared at it for a millisecond before diving in. 

The water was raw and blistering on Stinky’s skin but it was nothing unusual for the time of year. It was December and he figured it could’ve been far worse for him and Sid. “At least it hasn’t snowed yet.” He thought as he frantically searched for Sid’s body, eventually catching sight of the other boy’s sinking form. With a burst of energy, he found himself swimming toward Sid, grasping the boy’s torso, and dragging it as he propelled through the water and onto the shore, exhaling and gasping for air as he collapsed on the sand.

Stinky’s respite didn’t last long. After all, Sid was unconscious beside him, and Stinky was fearing the worst. “C’mon man,” he kneeled beside Sid’s limp body. No response.  
“Wake up you fool,” he muttered through gritted teeth, shaking his friend’s arm roughly.

Nothing. 

Stinky was ready to pull out his phone to call an ambulance, but he couldn’t but notice and gawk at the scars that were marred across his friend’s arms. Some of them looked fresh. Others didn’t. “Oh shit,” he dropped the arm before examining the other one. It depicted the same image. 

“Sid,” Stinky’s voice trailed, “You stupid, stupid fool.” He sighed before lifting Sid’s shoulders and shaking him gently. “Come on you doofus, I know you’re stronger than this,” he continued to shake Sid’s form before a cough stifled through his form, moaning slightly before slowly cracking his eyes open. 

“A-am I in Heaven? Is this Heaven?” Sid’s voice creaked before another cough wracked through his form. His vision finally came into focus as he glared at Stinky, eyes blinking rapidly. “Stinky? W-what are you doing here?” 

“You’re alive, but I reckon you would’ve been dead if I hadn’t watched you walk off the dock.”

It took a moment for reality to sink in for Sid, but when it did it sank like an anchor. 

“What the hell, asshole?!” Sid roared as he attacked Stinky, punching his chest with the remaining force in his body. The other teen fell backwards but didn’t say anything as Sid began to prepare for his next attack. When Sid did try to punch his chest again, Stinky’s hand met his fist. 

“I’m the asshole? At least I’m not the one who tried to take their own damn life,” Sid froze at those words. “I can’t believe you were willing to abandon us, your friends, all because of a stupid funk,” Stinky released Sid’s fist as it fell from his hand, the other boy staring at him in silence. “I always knew you were a selfish nut, Sid. But damn, this is low even for you.” 

Sid didn’t respond to his friend’s icy remarks, blinking in silence before a few tears leaked from the corners of his eye. His tears eventually evolved into pitiful sobs.  
A frown creased on Stinky’s face. “Hey, man. I-I didn’t mean it like that,” 

But Sid cut Stinky off before he could even continue. “You d-don’t get it. I can’-I just can’t go on like this. I’m such a disappointment and a terrible friend. I-I can’t do anything right. And I know you guys just hate me.”

Stinky blinked, befuddlement etched across his face. “What are you talking about? No one thinks that off you. Sure, you do stupid things from time to time. But so do I. All of us do.” 

Sid sniffled. “I keep trying to tell myself, but it’s so hard, man.” He sniffed again. “So hard.” 

Stinky looked down at the sand, trying his best to make sense of such a paralyzing and petrifying situation. He remembered the scars on his arm. It was unnerving enough for him, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the hell Sid was going through. 

Stinky placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Sid. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.” 

Sid sniffed again. “I don’t t-think so, Stink. I mean, look at me. I just tried to kill myself,” he forced a chuckle, “I’m a freaking mess, dude.” 

“For the time being, maybe. But this ain’t permanent, you know.” His smile grew wider. “I promise.”

Sid glared at him for a second before resting his head against Stinky’s shoulder, tears streaked down his face. “A promise is kind of a big deal, Stink. Think you can handle that sort of responsibility?” 

“Mhm. I’m willing to try new things.” Stinky replied nonchalantly, gently running his fingers through Sid’s damp hair. 

Sid could only speculate what the future had in store for him – if he would even live to see adulthood, but in that moment, he felt safe. He felt okay.

Sid exhaled. Okay was good enough for now.


End file.
